


Release

by LittleSammy



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-27
Updated: 2010-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSammy/pseuds/LittleSammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, yet another version of Paris, and a weird little creature. It is mostly smutty, but halfway through it, Tony decided there had to be more to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Release

**Author's Note:**

> setting: NCIS, the night before 7x13 "Jet Lag". Yes, yet another version of Paris. Sue me. :P
> 
> warnings &amp; rating: This is a weird little creature. It is mostly smutty (please be aware of two people having quite some fun before you go in!), but halfway through it, Tony decided there had to be more to it.
> 
> eternal thanks: To my lovely LJ plot bouncers, without whom this would not have turned out the way it did - (in order of online appearance) "hianja", "sleifa" and "countryole". You girls are precious. :)

"We'll never live that down," he groans, and she pats his back while she drops her overnight bag onto the small couch.

 

"That was most likely the intention," she says with a wry smile while she slips out of her shoes, and Tony sighs.

 

"Who gets the bed?"

 

Ziva's smile is nonchalant, very smooth and therefore, slightly disconcerting. "Since you know full well that you lose various appendages if you behave inappropriately, I see no reason why one of us should camp on _that_, " she replies and points at the fancy mockup of a couch, her finger twirling around in a little wriggle to encompass the whole scale of the atrocity.

 

And yeah, Tony very much agrees, on all points of her statement. He still rubs his eyes and repeats, "We'll never live that down."

 

*** *** ***

 

He puts on sweatpants instead of his usual shorts, brought along just in case and for the sake of modesty, but he keeps forgetting that Ziva is in the same room, and so she runs into him while he's slipping out of his shirt. One minute, he's stretching his arms, the next he turns around, hears her "oomph" and feels her all pressed up against his chest. He stares down at her pretty face and sees her eyes widen just a bit at the unexpected contact. Then she pats his abs playfully and steps back, leaving his personal space just as easily as she used to invade it.

 

"First shower is mine," she declares, her nose twitching just the tiniest bit, and for some reason, that makes him want to sniff her up and down all of a sudden. From the look she gives him as she turns toward the bathroom, she knows that.

 

He takes a deep breath and glances at the single bed, and yes, he's gonna kill McGee at least eighteen different ways for booking this once they get back to DC. Maybe Ziva will let him borrow her trusty paper clip.

 

*** *** ***

 

"Ziva? Did you slip and break your neck in there, Probie?"

 

No answer, and his pulse jumps in his throat as his hand tightens on the doorknob. He knows he shouldn't go there, quite literally, but after almost thirty minutes of no other sound but the shower running, he feels the need to check up on his partner, who has most likely locked the door anyway and... she hasn't, because the knob turns in his hand easily and the bathroom door opens and beckons him in like the gateway to Narnia.

 

He breathes out slowly. "Ziva? You all right?" Again, only the sounds of hot water splashing around a body answer him, and so he slips inside.

 

He is greeted by so much steam it makes him blink, and he tries to get his eyes to adjust. Sees her moving behind the door of the shower stall, a darkish shadow that stirs up even more steam. He swallows hard because yes, he knows she's gonna kill him very much, but he still moves towards the shower as if drawn on strings. Raises a hand to wipe the condensation off the door so he can see her better. And the sight she presents is enough to shut down every single reasonable part of his brain.

 

His eyes flick from her mouth, all wet and panting, down her body, and it's not just embarrassment that makes something red-hot rush through him. _Hand in the cookie jar,_ he thinks and wants to slap himself for the bad pun. _Jesus, Ziva..._

 

Her eyelids flutter. She focuses slowly, and it takes her a few seconds until she recognizes him. And with a sigh, flowing so hotly over her lips, her eyes drift shut again. "Get out," she simply says, and her voice is low and rough and distracted.

 

He wants to, badly, but he can't stop staring at her. Keeps watching her busy hand, and he feels like the moth that is ensnared by the candle's flame until it is consumed by it.

 

"Tony." Her voice has a slight edge to it now, a warning reminder to get out, now, and his muscles tense because he really wants to leave her alone. Except that he can't, no way. And so he finds himself sliding the door open and stepping into the shower stall without even bothering to take his sweatpants off.

 

She shudders when he touches her hand, and her eyes open and meet his with mild confusion, drowning in arousal. Then her gaze drops to his mouth, and since she's not one to get easily distracted, her hand doesn't lose the rhythm for a second. Eventually, she lets her head fall back against the tiles with what could have been a shrug, and he feels her move her hand a little to the side so he can slip his fingers between her legs.

 

She gasps when he does, and her body tenses so suddenly that he knows this was just the little extra she needed. He keeps moving his fingers, watches her face as he slides them into her, and her mouth opens and makes those hot little sounds that go straight to his cock. Something is pounding in his ears, and he's not sure if it is his own pulse or the hot water streaming down onto his back.

 

"Harder," she presses out, and he complies, keeping the same rhythm as her stroking hand. He wants to kiss her so badly, wants to suck her mouth and tongue-fuck her all the way back to DC, but when he leans into her, she turns her head just enough to not touch him.

 

His jaw clenches as another shudder runs through her, and he can feel her come long before it actually happens, by the growing tension in her body, how she tightens around his fingers. Once more, and she moans and loses it, and he feels her muscles do the strange mix of tightening up and relaxing at the same time that has always, always amazed him.

 

Her breathing is harsh, and he feels it against his cheek. He wants to stay like this, wants to press into her, wants to get more than just his fingers into her, and he has to work hard to keep from just going for it. Because she is still biting her lip, and she is so far gone, and she hasn't allowed him any more than this.

 

When he pulls away from her, she gasps and opens her eyes, but still refuses to meet his gaze. For some reason that makes him want to smack his fist into the wall. Maybe just to get a more personal reaction out of her.

 

She keeps her face so carefully blank now that he clenches his jaw until it hurts. And when she reaches for him, he grabs her wrist before she can actually touch his cock.

 

"I'm fine," he hisses. Because having her return a simple favor is not something he can take right now.

 

She frowns in mild irritation, and when he takes a deep breath and steps back, her eyes narrow. And he waits for her to say something.

 

In the end, she just leaves, and when she is out of the bathroom, he does smack his flat palm against the tiles while the water keeps pounding down on him.

 

*** *** ***

 

She's gone when he gets out of the bathroom eventually, and that makes his carefully rebuild control crumble. "Why don't you run away for a change," he mutters angrily and grinds his teeth. At least her stuff is still there, so she hasn't bailed on him completely.

 

_Hey, look at that, she even bothered to leave a note._ One that doesn't explain an awful lot, though. He stares at the little yellow slip of paper that was dropped onto the bed carelessly.

 

_Needed a drink. Don't wait up._

 

He doesn't wait. He slips back into his clothes and hopes that she didn't decide to drown her sorrows at the other end of Paris.

 

*** *** ***

 

The concierge tips him off that she hasn't left the hotel at all, and so Tony asks for the way to the bar. Ziva is there indeed, staring into a glass of what looks like pretty damn expensive liquor, and just when he walks over to her, she knocks the glass back and signals the bartender for a refill.

 

The guy raises an eyebrow, and Tony asks him how many she already had. The slight tilt of the bartender's head is enough of an answer for him, but he nods at the man and orders the same for himself while he takes off his coat and sits down on the stool beside her.

 

She doesn't look at him, but he has seen her flinch when she heard his voice at her back. "Took you long enough," she says, then realizes she is quoting his own words at him, and the corner of her mouth does a weird little thing that could be a crooked smile.

 

"Yeah, well. Lost my Ziva compass, y'know," he replies. The bartender puts down a glass in front of Tony, and he nods his thanks and takes a sip. Liquid fire runs down his throat, and he coughs. Shoot, that girl knows how to party. "So. You mind telling me what's going on here?"

 

Her eyes flutter shut for a second, and she takes a deep breath. "I do mind, actually."

 

He turns toward her on his seat and watches her intently, and he sees her fidget and play with her glass that hasn't been refilled. "Start un-minding, then."

 

She gives him a glance that is a wild mix of frustration and drunk emotion, but before he can make more of it, she stares at her glass again. "I... should not have behaved like that," she says, very quietly, and this time, it is Tony who frowns.

 

"Using a Gibbs rule on me, oh, that's clever." He leans closer to her, and she turns her head to meet his eyes for real this time. "No forgiveness from me, Ziva, because it was bound to happen eventually."

 

"Well, it should not have happened," she replies sharply, and the way her eyes narrow tells him that her temper is coming back.

 

"Nonsense," he says, and his pulse picks up some speed, like it always does when he is this close to her. "It just shouldn't have happened that way."

 

"Oh, really?" She almost spits the words into his face, sarcasm dripping from her lips, and while she gets angry, he gets hot. "How was it supposed to happen then, Tony? Because I for one can't see a single scenario..."

 

He leans into her and takes her face into his hands, and her eyes widen as she forgets the rest of her sentence, just like that.

 

"Like this," he says, and brushes his lips against hers. Drinks in her breath. Feels her angry mouth go soft under his unexpected touch, and he stares at her, holds her gaze while he moves his lips against hers. A slight tremble runs through her, and that is when he draws her closer and wraps a hand into her hair that is still damp from the shower. He feels her give in, little by little, and he licks her mouth and tastes the liquor on her tongue, and he doesn't mind that at all, because this is indeed where they were supposed to be heading all that time, and it makes him dizzy that after all the friggin detours they have taken, their paths have finally crossed.

 

She moans into his mouth then, and god, that feels so good it makes his head spin and his pulse go through the roof, and so he just keeps kissing her, keeps tasting her, keeps showing her what the last four years have been like on his end, until it feels like he could come from this alone.

 

When the kiss finally ends, his heart is hammering in his chest, and he feels her pulse beat just as harshly underneath his fingertips. "Like this," he repeats, still staring into her eyes that are so very wide now, and her voice is very, very small when all she says is, "Oh."

 

*** *** ***


End file.
